The little yellow tulip
by Kankri is my personal Jesus
Summary: Spock is an uncomfortable man/vulcan. His mother does notice, and persuades him into participating in the celebrations of an earthly event- Valentine's day. What his mother didn't expect, though, was her socially awkward child to actually be head-over-heels in love.
1. Chapter 1

It was afternoon. Most of the people, who studied at the Starfleet Academy, even the teachers, were gone from their official posts of work. Almost every office was empty- the teachers and ambassadors visiting had gone back to their respective hotels and apartments. As a matter of fact, every teacher _had_ left to somewhere less like a workplace and more like a home; every teacher except one.

Commander Spock stood in the middle of his office, his hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were fixated on a black screen on the opposite wall. In a few more seconds, he figured, the screen would lighten up, and then hell should break loose. Figuratively speaking, of course.

And indeed. In less than a minute, the dim light from the sunset that before lightened up the room was gone, replaced by a stronger, whiter and brighter sort of illumination source. The screen was no longer black- instead; the face and shoulders of a woman were directly transmitted from the planet Vulcan to Spock's office upon earth. Amanda Grayson was grinning broadly towards her visibly less enthusiastic son, her brown bangs bobbing on her head as she waved eagerly towards him. Spock acknowledged her gesture with a nod.

'Hello Spock!' Amanda cried, 'it's mum!'

'Hello, mother', Spock replied and extended his right hand in a Vulcan salute, 'I trust you are well?'

'Better than ever! I slept better than I've done in days, and I tried a plate that I never tasted before! Can you believe it? Just when I thought I had squeezed out everything of value of Vulcan- it surprises me in the most delightful way! Salek wouldn't stop rolling his eyes at me because I was giggling like a child!'

'Hm', Spock noised and nodded, 'father is well as well, I hear.'

Amanda's expression darkened just a tad. Spock, as the blunt man he was, did not notice anything.

'Oh, Spock… he…he…' As her son stepped closer to the screen, finally understanding something was amiss, she corrected herself, 'Yes, your father is very well too. I think…'

She sighed.

'Don't you want to talk to him?'

'I am sure my father has more important appointments at the moment', Spock said simply.

There was silence between mother and son for a while, until Amanda broke it by clearing her throat loudly.

'So, Spock, now that you're living on earth…' she started, apparently trying to come up with something to say by the way, 'how are you adapting to the customs?'

Spock licked his teeth and for a second or less, his gaze shifted to the floor and back. He was not adapting very well at all. And Vulcans were unable to lie. For Amanda, who had lived on Vulcan for most of her adult life, had become quite the expert on reading emotionless masks. Of course, her son, was like an open book for most parts. Her face softened.

'Oh Spock…' she sighed, 'well, you're not having _that_ hard a time, are you?'

'I never admitted to be having, as you put it, a bad time, I merely seem incapable of…adapting… to earth customs', Spock said, sounding almost sheepish at the last part.

'Earth has some lovely customs, don't worry, it won't take long before you feel at ease!' Amanda exclaimed, even though both knew that Spock should never feel at ease with anything, 'for example, we have Christmas, uhm… Easter, and also… oh, this one is tomorrow!'

'I beg your pardon, mother, I was in the belief that Easter was celebrated in May?'

'Oh, I wasn't talking about Easter- I was talking about tomorrow! It's Valentine's day.'

Spock thought about it for a moment.

'I believe I am not in acquaintance with this custom', he admitted after a thorough research of his mind, 'does it celebrate another part of the cycle of the life of the hypothetical prophet known as the son of God?'

Amanda laughed.

'Oh no, it's nothing like Christmas or Easter!' She said and waved her hand, 'it's really silly, if you think about it…'

'Mother, you can speak to me freely about it. I shan't judge you by it.'

'Okay, so it's like… a celebration to…', she put her finger to her bottom lip, trying to find the words to paint the meaning of this to a half-Vulcan, 'a celebration to celebrate affection, mutual understanding.'

Spock raised an eyebrow, 'a mating festivity?'

'Well… kind of, I suppose', she said and shrugged her shoulders, 'but, if you want to start adjusting to humans, you might as well try to mix in with the humans and celebrate it!'

'And…' Spock said, very slowly. He looked as if he was chewing a chunk of resistant meat, 'how do humans celebrate this… occasion?'

'It's different- some choose to give flowers to their sweethearts, others sing them a serenade of undying passion, others kiss their partners senseless under a full moon night- _Don't give me that look, Spock_! It's just a festivity; you can just give a present to someone whom you wish should be aware of your affections!'

But her son looked at her in that special way of his, that way of tilting his head just barely noticeable, that way of squinting his eyes. She could almost hear him mouth the word 'fascinating'. Amanda knew her battle was lost.

'Oh, okay, but you should at least put on something more festive!' She cried, and then she massaged her eyelid, 'oh Spock, don't you have _any_ girl you fancy? Just a teensy-tiny little-'

Amanda Grayson stopped in blank. The last remark had been but a joke, of course she hadn't _actually_ expected her stiff-as-a-stick son; whom she had lately been speculated seemed asexual; had taken liking for anybody who wasn't explicitly genetically linked to him.

And yet, as she'd uttered the words, so harmless to her, she had noticed something that she never had witnessed in over twenty years. Whilst her son's facial expression remained unchanged (except for a quick glance at his feet), she noticed that upon his pale cheeks, on the tip of his nose and lastly on his pointed ears, there was a light touch of forest green.

Spock was blushing.

'Spock…' his mother whispered, 'you _do_ have a girl you fancy?'

Amanda's eyes widened when she gained an almost-emotional response from her son. He took another step forward and opened his mouth before quickly closing it again. He pressed his fist to his mouth, and then clasped his hands behind his back again. This all happened in less than a second, and for the untrained eye, Spock's reaction would have just seemed like a quick snatch. But not to the ever-so-knowing Amanda Gray. Yes, this was just about one of the closest thing she'd seen him do that would seem like a nervous fit.

Vulcans cannot lie.

Amanda's mouth almost hurt from smiling so widely.

'"Fancy" is hardly the correct term, mother', said Spock, 'and I think that I should leave to prepare tomorrow's class, if you excuse me-'

'Oh no you don't!' Amanda warned and reached her hand forward, as if to prevent Spock to move through a screen. The motion had the desired effect.

'Mother, I insist-'Spock began, but was interrupted by Amanda shaking her head.

'You must know, Spock', she said, 'earth mothers have this…tendency, to stick their noses up in their children's business. Now that you've managed to awake my curiousity, you can't just leave me without any real answers!'

'I believe I've already told you, mother', Spock said, '"fancy" is not the correct term.'

Amanda frowned. With Vulcans, the only way to succeed was to strike while the iron was still hot. Judging by Spock's calm, the iron had chilled down seconds ago- he was now prepared for most emotional blows. Amanda figured he must be feeling smug now, to have collected himself so quickly.

Well, that, she ought to change.

'Well, pray what _is_ the correct term, then?' Amanda asked.

'The correct term would be-', said Spock, but then he blinked and started over again, 'I appreciate the company of the female in question. We have very pleasant conversations with each other.'

'So… just friends, is it now?'

'Our relationship is purely professional', Spock said dryly.

'Then…' Amanda said, 'then perhaps you could tell me what about her that you find enjoyable?'

'She arrives in time, a quality which is most admirable since humans seem to find it beyond difficult to arrive at the time they are supposed to', Spock explained, 'she also is a very gifted student of xenolinguistics- her grades have yet to be beaten by any student of any class.'

Amanda nodded, taking in the information seriously, before realizing something.

'_Student?_'

'As I said before, our relationship is purely professional.' Spock said, but Amanda thought he'd said it a little too fast for it to be a completely emotionless answer.

'I see…' Amanda smiled, 'well, is she cu-', she corrected her mistake, '_aesthetically pleasing_?'

'Her looks are of the normal kind', he said, and then added, 'perhaps, in some contexts, even bordering the other edge of the scale.'

'Pffffft', Amanda snorted, 'so she's beautiful, yes?'

Spock did not answer.

'Buuut, then, that brings us to the subject! Valentine's Day; Valentine's Day! Now that we've established a possible subject to celebrate the event with?' Amanda laughed, 'A foxy little girl to shower with presents!'

In her utterly understandable motherly excitement, Amanda Grayson had forgotten the elementary facts regarding the background of the one she was speaking to. Spock's lips thinned at the word 'foxy'. He had no idea what it meant. And that, Amanda thought, was probably for the better.

'Are you implying that I should take the initiative in the process of requesting matrimonial unity?' Spock asked with certain disbelief, 'that I should give explicit indications of desiring her as a possible mate?'

'I only wish you to do as your heart compels you to do, sweetheart', Amanda said, a kind of pity in her voice, 'but if you really want to do that… I think it's a bit over-the-top though.'

'It was you who suggested similar actions; I merely wanted to make sure what you said is what I understood, as you may know, I would never participate in such action.'

That was her son's way of saying 'I never said that, you did!'

'…Yes, but, don't you at least express your sentiments in some way?'

'Mother', Spock said, the corners of his mouth tugging just a millimeter upwards, 'to which "sentiments" are you referring to?'

It was Amanda's turn to raise an eyebrow.

'Son, as much as I love you, I am going to ignore that comment', Amanda said, 'I'm speaking of your regard for this woman. Can't you just… be a tad less… Vulcan…? And give her a present?'

'I do not wish to seek a deeper relationship with miss Uhura', Spock blurted out, then closed his eyes tight. Slip of the tongue.

'Well, why don't we plan on what to give miss Uhura then?' Amanda suggested, 'if you don't want her to know that you like her', Spock was about to make an objection, but Amanda raised her hand, so he shut his mouth again, 'send her an anonymous gift!'

Despite his better judgment, Spock found that there was something about his mother's suggestion that excited him. Inside the half-blood, two sides had begun to collide. Whilst his human side had started to project imagines of possible outcomes, his Vulcan side was screaming to him that those images were beyond logic, and were only speculation. Amanda noticed that he was very quiet.

'It's only logical', Amanda reasoned in the only way her son would grasp, 'that, if you desire the company of someone, you express gratitude through gifts for everything that someone has done to you. Even if it's anonymous, they will feel appreciated.'

A partly unwelcome, partly welcome image of a smiling Uhura flashed through Spock's mind like a swift breeze- he even got the chills.

'Mother, you are suggesting that I should send an anonymous gift?' Spock said. Despite that his mouth was feeling oddly dry; he went on, 'then, hypothetically speaking, what should I choose as a suiting present?'

Amanda failed to suppress a snort.

'Well, _hypothetically speaking_, I think she would very much enjoy something like a card, perhaps a box of chocolate pralines? Oh and-', she stopped in blank, and shut her eyes tight, a victorious grin on her face, 'flowers. Flowers are really perfect! Roses, tulips, daffodils… girls love flowers! Oh Spock, a bouquet of them all! Or perhaps-'

'Is it earth custom to give away flowers on this day of tomorrow?' Spock interrupted and touched his PADD, deep in thought.

'Yes, well, sort of', Amanda brushed off, 'so, are you going to, then? Give her flowers?'

Spock looked down at his feet and considered it, and then he licked his dry lips and looked up at his mother. Amanda's eyes were shining with warmth as she looked at the shy expression that tinted her son's features.

'I believe I shall. I should need to adjust to earth, and endavouring in participating in such festive events may be a good start', Spock said, 'besides, I find the idea of an expression of gratitude towards the Cadet to be quite pleasant.'

'Oh Spock!' Amanda cried, 'oh Spock, that's so sweet of you! Aren't you just the perfect gentleman? What will you give her, then?'

Inside his brain, Spock went through the name and appearance of every piece of botanic he knew of.

'Of the species of flowers I cultivate in the academy's greenhouse', Spock said, 'I find _Rosaceae Rosa_ to be the most fitting for the occasion.'

'The rose', Amanda whispered, 'yes, that's perfect- on the right track, Spock! Which colour do you have in mind?'

Amanda Grayson was practically singing inside because of the joy she felt of having an almost-normal mother-son conversation with her son, something that, needless to say, didn't occur too often. But on the outside, she kept her cool and observed with glee how her Spock was scratching his chin with his nails, thinking in terms of discreet romantic advances.

'Red', he said decidedly, 'if it's not a red rose, then let there be a yellow tulip.'

As a very well-read woman, Amanda knew very well how to decode the meanings of plants. Because of this, her eyes widened considerably at the two flowers suggested by her son. Never had she thought something similar to this occurrence was possible. And yet, it was.

'Those two flowers… they…' Amanda said weakly, 'they have very… deep… meanings, _emotional_ meanings, Spock.'

'Mother, is the purpose of this event not to express emotional meanings?' Spock said sharply.

'Yes, but-'

'Then it would be illogical to act differently.'

Blinking twice, Amanda finally got the message, so to speak. Spock didn't want her to stick her nose into it, well then, she wouldn't. But the meaning of the flowers was still present inside of her. And, truth be told, it frightened her. Just a tiny bit, she was frightened. Spock turned around and began pacing with small steps. Then he turned around again, to face his mother. He rubbed his eyebrow.

'Yes, yes, a yellow tulip', he said, more to himself than to his mother, 'that should work. Mother', he raised his voice and clasped his hands behind his backs again, 'thank you for this piece of advice. I'm sure it shall be most valuable in my quest to properly adjust to earth.'

'Oh, you don't have to thank me, sweetie, I just want you to be happy', Amanda said, 'are you happy on earth? That's the most important thing.'

'I am…' Spock said slowly, one eyebrow raised, 'not unhappy.'

They were quiet.

'Couldn't you tell me more about the girl?' Amanda asked carefully.

'Everything that needed to be said has been said', Spock said, 'you are trying to further continue this conversation, but I must leave to prepare the class of tomorrow day.'

'…I understand', Amanda said, 'but can't you at least tell me how she looks like?'

'It's insignificant. But if you wish, erhm, cadet Uhura has black hair, quite long, and brown eyes. She is quite slim.'

'She sounds lovely.'

'If that is your opinion. Goodbye, mother.'

'Oh, and Spock!' Amanda exclaimed, her face betraying just the slightest trace of panic, 'you must talk to your father soon. Back at Vulcan, you are quite the elephant in the room- can't you make friends with him again?'

'Goodbye, mother', Spock insisted and reached out his hand in a salute. His mother sighed and did the same.

'Goodbye, Spock.'

The transmission ended, and the room was no longer lit. It was darker than before- the sunset was long gone, and left was but a pitch-black sky. Spock looked out of his office window. The city was large, and Spock recalled that it had approximately one point three million one hundred thousand fifty-three habitants. And each, well, almost each one, of those millions of people were perfectly capable of adjusting to normal customs. Even full-blooded foreign aliens were for most parts able to have rational conversations with other living beings; they had a fully functioning social life.

Spock, even though he held the advantage of being partly human, did not possess that luxury.

Barely ever did he speak to anyone outside of his job, and if he did, he couldn't say he really enjoyed the sensation of having to be the target of people's verbal diarrhea.

That's why; Cadet Uhura had proven to be quite the refreshment.

Cadet Uhura almost always arrived in time, unlike most of her human brethren, which was the first thing Spock noticed about her. The second was her unmatched ability to make people feel lighter. As if she was a fan that blew away all the dust in the air. The third, her oh so talented aural sensibility- it was a bliss hearing her speak different languages- as if painting a gorgeous painting, with personal touches and clolours. She was kind, too, and understanding. She could explain things to him in a way that nobody did, in a way that made him understand most concept without feeling ridiculous for asking. Even though, sometimes he did feels ridiculous around her. But that was because he himself could not control the things he said and did. He once caught himself smiling at her, to which he had punished himself by not speaking to her in three days.

And, of course, she wasn't especially bad-looking either.

Spock closed his eyes and opened again. He exhaled deeply, with the breath; he let out every thought of said Cadet out of his mind. That should do the trick for starters, to stop thinking with the wrong half.

At least for now.


	2. Chapter 2

'But is this _really_ such a big deal?' Complained the young girl with long black hair, almost laughing with embarrassment.

'Oh it's _bigger_!' Assured the girl with green skin beside her.

'Bigger, Nyota; bigger!' Agreed a third girl with rosy cheeks.

Nyota Uhura tried not to smile, but an embarrassed grin was threatening to spread on her face- her mouth corners were tugging upwards awkwardly. She flipped her long hair behind her back, sighed and crossed her legs. The three girls were gathered upon the cold floor of the student chamber, sitting in a circle around an item that was currently the subject of eager conversation. It was a square white box. The box was unopened.

'I don't care about these things!' Laughed Uhura, 'honestly- it's just a stupid publicity stunt!'

'Oh it doesn't matter if it's a publicity stunt!' Said Janice, 'it obviously means a lot to the one who sent you this!'

'The mysterious phantom parcel-deliverer…', sighed Gaila, twirling locks of red hair around her fingers dreamily, 'can't we call him P.D for shor?'

'I'm sure P.D must look dashing…'

'Oh please!' Exclaimed Uhura and pushed the box away from her persona, 'this is so childish! The man whom I'd like to be with should be much more mature than this! This all seems more like the doings of farmer-boy.'

'Oh no, he would probably had sent you himself naked', Gaila said grimly.

'With a ribbon around his-', began Janice, but was cut off by Uhura throwing a pillow in her face.

'Okay, okay, not him! Another one of those kids who think they're grown up just because they've got chest hair.'

'Jim actually shaves his', Gaila pointed out.

'I don't even want to know why you know that, but the point is, I'm neither interested in all this Valentine's nonsense, in a relationship with Jim Kirk, _or_ a relationship in general!' Argued Uhura, 'I'm a single lady, happy as can be, so bye-bye P.D- to the rubbish bin you go.'

As Uhura was about to reach her hands for the box, a sudden mass of yellow flashed before her eyes, and when she looked up, Janice was holding the box tight to her chest, shaking her head frantically.

'You mustn't! You mustn't Nyota!' She screamed.

'That's right- just because you've got a crush on commander boring-as-ass doesn't mean you can just throw other people's gifts in the trash can- damn it Uhura!'

Uhura felt her neck increase in warmth. The subject of her not-entirely appropriate feelings towards Commander Spock was a sore subject indeed. It was like a pebble in her shoe- if she tried to forget about it, she would eventually slap herself mentally for having thought "hey I managed not to think about"- and then pictures of his soft-looking hands and adorable nose would soon fill her mind, and in the end, it would all be useless. In class, she simply couldn't stop looking at the way his grey uniform jacket was perfectly tailored, hugging his figure with almost arousing precision; the way he would raise his eyebrow when somebody said the wrong answer, indirectly stating 'are you retarded?' in a vulcan way; the way his mouth would become just a tad thinner when he was embarrassed… those small kinds of things that nobody in their right mind would notice. Nobody except Nyota Uhura, to whom Spock's minuscule displays of anything resembling emotion, could brighten up whole days. Because of her helpless obsession, this had become sort of a taboo between the girls. But as awkward silence thickened the air, Uhura understood that Gaila had a point.

If somebody was as helplessly in love with her as she was with her commander, it would not only be extremely unjust, but it would also be distasteful to just throw away the present. Even if it was a childish one, it was a sort of confession of affection. Uhura wasn't as used to be given Valentine gifts as Gaila, or even Janice; but that gave her no right to just trash it. She groaned and rubbed her eyelid. Gaila and Janice were eyeing her expectantly.

'…Fine', she muttered, 'fine, I won't throw it away, it'll probably just be a stupid heart-shaped card or something like that…'

'Oh, so you're opening it, are you?' Gaila chirped, jumping up and down on her knees. Janice nodded enthusiastically.

'Yes, yes I am. I don't want to be mean to the poor guy…'

'It could be a girl', said Janice, 'but… let's just hope not, and, here.'

Uhura put the box upon her lap, and at once, the other girls hovered over it. They held their breaths; Uhura rolled her eyes and removed the white lid. Between four white walls of cardboard laid a lonely flower. A yellow tulip. Gaila let out a gasp.

'Well so much fuss about a flower', snorted Uhura and picked up the delicate botanic artifact.

'A yellow tulip, Ny; a yellow tulip!' Cried Gaila and waved her hands in the air rapidly, 'not just _any_ flower!'

'Well I wouldn't know what that means', said Uhura, 'oh hey, here's a note as well.'

'A yellow tulip equals _undying love_! Obsessed love! Head over heels!'

'What does the note read?' Inquired Janice and leant over Uhura's shoulder to take a look at the bit of paper.

'Well, nothing much', said Uhura and frowned, 'it says "To miss Uhura".'

'Thanks captain obvious! Augh, geez P.D, of course it was for Ny, or else you wouldn't have put it in her mail transporter!'

'Maybe he was just trying to make sure', suggested Janice and shrugged her shoulders, 'either way, it's really sweet.'

'Weird, more like', reckoned Uhura, then she noticed something. When the rays of light reached the corner of the paper, an almost unnoticeable trace of erased pencil. Uhura squinted her eyes, and behind the original message, was the faintest trace of the letter 'B'.

'Hey you', mumbled Uhura and raised the piece of paper so that all the light from the window would reach it, 'I reckon it says something else behind.'

'What, like, a secret message?' Gaila wondered, 'well that's rich.'

'No, no; I think it's something he wrote before, something he erased for some reason', Uhura decided, 'now,_ what was it you didn't want me to know, P.D_?'

'An "M"', blurted Janice.

Uhura turned around and narrowed her eyes in confusion at her friend, 'what?' She said.

'I think the first letter is an "M"', said Janice 'wouldn't you?'

Gaila chirped and clapped Janice's cheek, 'now _that_'s the female detective skill! Go girl power!'

'Yay', Uhura said without the slightest trace of enthusiasm in her voice, '"M"… "Y"? M-Y, my? Yeah, that sounds just about right, given the situation.'

'Oh, Nyota give Janice some love!' Gaila pouted and hugged her blond friend, 'such a show off!'

'You're right, sorry Janice', Uhura said and put down her precious paper, smiling a bit, 'I'm just getting a bit- excited, about this whole deal. Totally against my will too!'

'That's alright', said Janice with a nod, 'next one?'

'B.'

'Yeah, definitely a "B".'

'Could be an "8" though', said Janice and tilted her head to get a different angle of view.

'Yes, because "My eight" makes so much sense', Gaila snorted, 'Don't listen, Ny- obviously a "B".'

'My… B', concluded Uhura, and then threw her head back and giggled, 'Maybelline?'

'My booty is your booty!' Gaila exclaimed hopefully.

'What's next, then?' Asked Janice and licked her lips, 'is that an "F"?'

'B.F! Oh my God, P.D wants to be your boyfriend! Your boyfriend Nyyyy!' Cried Gaila and clapped her hands together. Uhura frowned.

'No, there's kind of a…', Uhura squinted her eyes and turned the paper some degrees, 'sort of a line underneath- I'd say it's more of an "E"… as for the next letter… Oh I can't even read this!'

'What's the matter?'

'Does it imply something explicitly sexual?'

'No!' Uhura cried with red cheeks, 'it's just unintelligible! Completely unintelligible!'

'Oh', Gaila muttered with a disappointed tone and slumped shoulders.

'Guess we'll never know what P.D was trying to convey, huh?' Janice sighed and cupped her cheeks with her hands.

'No…'

'Ugh, it was all for the better', Uhura said, trying to cheer up the assembly of girls, 'your ovaries would've practically exploded Gai-', she blinked, 'wait a minute.'

'Can you read it, can you?' Squeaked Janice, 'does it seem romantic?'

'I can't read what comes _directly_ afterwards, but look', Uhura said and brushed her index finger over the paper, 'after a sort of space, more letters are visible!'

'So, what, we're going to skip over a bit?'

'Yeah, we can work on that bit later', Uhura said, 'now, let's decifer!'

'Ooooh, this message's got you excited now!' Sang Gaila excitedly and pinched Uhura on the nose.

'Shut it! It's not like I'm going to know who it is anyway- I'm only in it for the excitement of decoding', snapped Uhura with genuine embarrassment.

'The excitement in P.D's pants, more like.'

'Gaila!' Cried Janice.

'Oh put a sock in it', Uhura frowned, 'let's see, oh, there's that "E" again!'

Janice closed on eye and bit her lip, 'you sure it's not an "F"?'

'_Certain_.'

'Ny _is_ the genius of linguistics after all, she should know!' Assured Gaila, proud of her genius-proclaimed roommate, 'Commander Spock even gave her special praise for her de-coding!'

'Oh it's nothing, really' Uhura brushed away. She felt her palms go warm, because she remembered the way that Spock used to stand right behind her, breathing wetly on her neck as he praised her for her good work.

'He praises everything she ever does!' Gaila urged to prove her point, 'Gods, he's practically drooling over her.'

'I… hope you remember whom you're speaking of?' Uhura giggled, amused by the odd image of Spock drooling. Maybe in his sleep? Her skin felt hot underneath all of a sudden.

'Okay, maybe not _drool_, but I'm pretty sure I saw him almost-smiling', Gaila assured and pulled one of her mouth corners upwards with her index finger, creating a quite grotesque impression of a loop-sided smile, 'like this. That's like, the Vulcan equivalent of a boner or something. 'S gotta be.'

'Let's stop talking about that now! Geez!'

They were yet again, silent. Janice turned her head at the crimson-cheeked Uhura, and then at the pout-lipped Gaila. She cleared her throat.

'…So, where were we?' Janice inquired in an attempt to lighten the mood.

'Uh, right', Uhura said and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, 'My be-e- hey! After the "E", there's just one more letter!'

'P.D, here we come!' Gaila shouted with renewed energy and with her hands in the air.

'Next's either another "B" an "O", or…'

'A "D"!' Janice insisted and snapped her fingers.

'Yes, yes it's a "D"- you're right, Janice!' Uhura praised, 'then what we have is "My be…ed.'

They all frowned. Uhura closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Then, at the same time, they all gasped and looked at each other.

'"My beloved!"' They screamed at the same time.

They got it, they had cracked the code. Uhura smiled broadly, and Gaila punched her lightly just above the elbow. Janice laughed. They all laughed. The message was wonderful, so very wonderful. Somehow, it made Uhura feel good inside. The feeling did of course not compete with what she felt every time Spock looked at her, but it was a merry feeling nonetheless. She was grateful for the one that held her so dear. Only one person would mean that to her though, and it was most certainly not the one who felt that way about her.

And he hadn't even wanted her to know of these words.

Between hugs and laugher, Uhura was thinking to herself who that person could be. The one who sent her the tulip. The tulip that means love.

She recognized that handwriting, she was sure of it. Somewhere, she had seen that handwriting.

Laughing, she put aside "P.D"'s box, the letter, and the rose, and decided to think about that later, probably sometime after eating the gigantic pizza Gaila just order from the food transporter to celebrate.


	3. Chapter 3

Impatience.

An explicitly human emotion.

A most useless emotion.

Even with this in mind, Spock was unable to do anything against the unpleasant stirring inside his guts. Alone in his apartment, Spock sat by his kitchen table, trying to read the small text from the PADD that lightened the room. But to him, the text was oh so small, and the fantasies that tortured him were oh so enticing.

What would the outcome be?

Indeed, even if he at multiple occasions had criticized the human weakness for gambling; it was very illogical to engage in activities in which the outcome was beyond certainty. Despite having insisted upon this, he now (partially) understood the excitement of it. The nervousity, the tingles of insecurity.

And Spock was engaged in a very thrilling game of gamble.

The stake?

His dignity and heart.

Two things he wasn't even sure he had. But at that moment, they both seemed of severe importance.

Spock closed his eyes. The text was abysmally boring, and it paled in comparison to the reports of cadet Uhura. Her texts, to begin with, had much better grammar and nearly perfect Vulcan syntax. And her texts weren't about how to plant squash on Andorian stars. Spock had never, and was probably never to plant squash on any Andorian star; therefore, he felt the smallest pang of irritation at the cadet who had sent him the text. Spock had better things to do than to learn advanced space-botanic. He tried to re-read it once, twice, but the words just didn't sink into him- as if they were blurring together into an unreadable mass.

He sighed and closed the tab. The work had to be graded by tomorrow, but really, that-dare he say- bunch of quality rubbish wouldn't even earn an "E" in his world. A soft ticking was present in the room, and he turned his head to glance at the retro clock upon the wall. Ten past eight. In another ten minutes, class would start- with him as teacher.

_And her as student._

Picking up his utensils, Spock prepared himself mentally for the face of that girl, so oblivious to his affections. It was hard, since her mere presence in his mind clouded his thoughts immensely; all of his Vulcan discipline was required for the action, but in the end, it was successful. He opened his grey closet and put on his grey jacket, adjusted the collar and nodded to his mirror image- all was well and correct. His mother would most certainly, if she were present, pinched his cheek and licked her finger to then moisturize his eyebrows. He, of course, abstained from such antics, and left his room with his PADD under his arm.

'…So', said Spock as he stood before the assembly of students that was his class, 'I believe we left at the chapter about…'

He closed his eyes. With all the commotion, his genius Vulcan brain had managed to erase all memories of what really mattered. Or, as the case was most likely to be, his human half had collided unpleasantly with the Vulcan part.

'The history of the Vulcan embassy, sir?' Suggested a familiar voice.

Uhura was beaming at him from her seat. Spock lamented the uncomfortable itch that the back of his neck had developed.

'Affirmative- the history of Vulcan embassy', Spock concluded, hiding the fact that he felt infinitely stupid, 'can anybody make an abridged version of what I have taught you in previous lesions?'

Uhura raised her hand. A sandy-haired cadet whose name Spock did not know rolled his eyes. Spock nodded towards Uhura.

'Anybody who _isn't_ Uhura?' Mocked the sandy-haired cadet. Uhura turned her head to him and hissed, and then she continued her answer. However, Spock had stopped listening. He was too concentrated in trying to read her body language. Suffering from severe emotional handicap, it was hard, but she looked… positively neutral. Maybe he wasn't looking hard enough. Once again, he scanned her down and up. Yes, this time, he saw something. But it wasn't happiness, appreciation or anything resembling fondness- he figured, at least. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth was half-open. He blinked. Her mouth was moving; perhaps it was time to actually start listening. Human courtship was indeed complicated.

'I beg your pardon?' Spock said, the nagging feeling on the back of his head telling him to stop being stupid more present than ever.

'I asked you if you were feeling well, sir?' Uhura asked, 'you seem somewhat feverish? And you haven't made any remarks…'

'No, there was nothing to remark upon', Spock said, which wasn't a lie, because for him, there wasn't, 'excellent, yes I'm feeling excellent, now, to continue the research on…'

He licked his teeth and clenched his fist very slightly- nobody noticed these signs of Vulcan distress.

'The research on the history of the Embassy', he concluded, then cleared his throat. Half the class blinked, realizing something was really weird here, 'the… the goals for this scholar year include the ability to do independent research. Therefore, I would approve if you made a thorough research of an area of choice within the history of Vulcan embassies around the world. This essay should be finished within a week. Sent it to me by fax, PADD or manually. For research, visit the library of the academy. Good luck.'

The students in class sat motionless for a lesser period of time, trying to process what they had heard- Spock never let them do private research, let alone without any supervision. A lonely male cadet rose and began walking towards the door, encouraging other cadets to mimic his motions.

Spock turned his back to the remaining students, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. This was definitely not the correct way to face the highly unwelcome set of emotions. Spock had never appreciated his superior intellect more than he did now. At the same time, such a gift had also proven to be quite the problem as he was unable to, as humans put it, "think outside the box". At least he had managed to rescue the lesson along with his dignity. Some of it.

'Commander?'

Spock almost winced. _Almost._

Uhura was just behind him, her hand reached out as if she was about to touch his shoulder. He turned around and took a step back; no, she most definitely wasn't going to touch his shoulder anytime soon. She wasn't going to touch him at all, because their level of intimacy didn't quite agree upon the fact. Spock looked around. Nobody else was there- then, it was safe to use first names.

'Nyota?' He asked. This was the first time they had spoken alone ever since he had sent her that box. It made him feel a bit… it made him feel. And he wasn't used to feeling, neither he was sure he liked it. Especially not the fact that he was wet under the eyebrows.

'You were acting weird during class, are you sure you're alright?' Uhura said and rubbed her hand slowly against her other arm's elbow.

'Yes I'm fine', said Spock swiftly, 'and you? Slept well?'

'I slept perfectly fine-', Uhurra began, and then shook her head, 'but seriously Spock, you can tell me anything you know?'

Spock raised an eyebrow. That statement was very much illogical; while Spock _could_ tell Uhura anything, his mother had taught him that one _mustn't _tell people anything. For example, if you saw someone on the street who stopped you to ask if you thought they were fat (and, according to this example, the person in question weighed over one hundred-fifty kilograms), you _mustn't_ tell this person your opinion, even though you _could_, because not only would it be rude, you might also risk physical injury.

According to this principle, Spock _could_ tell Uhura:

"I am feeling distressful because of the fact that I let my mother, who acts as my guidance when it comes to my severe emotional handicap, persuade me into sending you an anonymous rose which symbolizes undying affection. Not only did I send you it because of the persistence of my mother, but because, quite against my will, I am finding myself inexplicably attracted to you. I am also not supposed to say this, but you are beautiful. That is what is wrong with me, and if you wish to help me, please remove any item of clothing you are currently wearing and-"

'I'm quite well, Nyota', Spock said abruptly and gave his human side a mental slap across the cheek for even voicing that thought inside of him, 'I … did not sleep very well, but as that does not affect my teaching, I fail to see why it should disturb you.'

Uhura's eyelids slid down slightly. She smiled.

'Oh, Spock, I'm just worried about you, can't you see?' Uhura said softly, 'I understand you- I've also had a lot of think of lately?'

It felt as if someone just pinched him underneath the navel. Excitement? Perhaps. He almost felt excitement at the _thought _of feeling excitement.

'Indeed?' Spock said and tried to sound as monotone as possible. He succeeded- Uhura was almost insulted by his apparent lack of interest, 'well, feel free to tell me more, Nyota.'

Nyota hesitated a bit, but she figured Spock wasn't exactly the one to gossip, plus, his brain might be of use in the process of revealing P.D's identity.

'I received an intriguing parcel', Uhura began and licked her lip. The sight of the pink tongue running over a maroon bottom lip was indeed fascinating, thought Spock, 'it contained a little yellow tulip.'

'I see', Spock said with a very dry throat.

'Okay, so, you know today is…', Uhura felt her cheeks warmth a bit, 'Valentine's day, you know about that?'

'The human mating ritual, yes.'

'Well, thing is, I received a flower', said Uhura, masking her surprise upon Spock's knowledge of Valentine's Day, 'it's… sort of childish really, this whole Valentine's thing.'

'Childish?'

'Yes, all too commercial for my taste', said Uhura with a clearly disgusted grimace.

'…Yes, I agree completely', Spock said hollowly. He'd have to speak to his mother about this.

'Anyway, the gesture was sweet nonetheless', Uhura said, 'even though I totally think it's childish- just you know, but, thing is, I have no idea whom it was from!'

Spock looked at the ceiling, and then he looked at his feet, then at Uhura. Not into her eyes, though.

'Am I correct in the assumption that you are seeking my advice in the matter?'

No, that didn't feel alright at all. They were feelings there; he knew it, in the vicinity of his chest and his stomach, but just not especially pleasant ones. Not ones he wished to further explore, so to speak.

'Yes, that would be', she said and tilted her head, causing black hair to cascade down her shoulder, 'that would be the correct assumption.'

His mother said it was rude to decline pleas for help. But then again, it was his _brilliant _mother who had gotten him into this predicament in the first place, and she was therefore not the appropriate person to consult. Spock smiled inwardly at his ironic use of the word brilliant.

'I…' Spock said, 'I think I could help you. What… what do you know of him, then?

Uhura smiled very broadly, and Spock suddenly felt as if he was struck by a brick upon the occipital area of his head. This was because the smile that Uhura produced made his insides twist, which wasn't pleasant because he felt a bit guilty. In a Vulcan way, which meant he wasn't planning on showing it outwardly in a thousand years.

'So, he sent me a note beside the rose', Uhura explained the details that Spock already knew too well, 'at first, I thought it said "to miss Uhura", but the thing is, I noticed there was a message behind.'

Spock damned the foul capacity of human erasers.

'It said "my beloved"', Uhura said slowly and emphasized her words with slow hand motions, 'can you believe it?'

'Hardly', Spock said.

'And here's the clue I was given', Uhura said, raising Spock's distress level by at least twenty-three percent. Not to mention, she stepped into his personal space. Which, needless to say, didn't make him feel like the luckiest bloke alive, 'I recognize the handwriting on the card', she confessed, then, as Spock was about to open his mouth, she quickly added, 'I know! I know it sounds highly illogical, but I _know_ I've seen that writing somewhere, I just can't quite figure out where. That's why I thought you perhaps could help me, as you've seen most of the student's handwritings?'

Spock thought about it. She had jumped to a conclusion, something which humans have the unfortunate knack of doing. She directly assumed that he was a student. Well, he guessed, since his hopes had been to keep his identity secret, this was all for the best. However, at some point, he would be force to lie.

An activity which he was unable to engage in.

'Yes, I could… compare, the students handwriting with the letter', Spock suggested uncertainly, 'if I could have it back?'

Was this rejection?

She frowned, '_Back?_'

'What I meant to say was that I wish to take a look at it', Spock said, 'it was a mere; as you humans put it, slip of the tongue. Although the term is quite ill-'

'Oh thank you so much, Spock, but I would love to be part of the investigation myself!' Uhura exclaimed, 'That is, wouldn't it be more efficient to perform the task of comparasion together?'

As well as utterly undignified, yes.

'Yes.' Spock said, 'you are quite right, Nyota. Shall we make an appointment at, shall we say my office at 160 hours tomorrow?'

'Sounds lovely, Spock!' Uhura smiled, 'gosh, but don't get me wrong, I am in _no way _excited about this- I think it's very childish, I just want to express my gratitude. Nothing more than gratitude, though.'

She laughed nervously, but Spock didn't notice the nervousity.

'Well, uhm, I should, get going, then?' She said and turned her back on him, 'see you there, then, Spock!'

'Yes I believe you will', he said faintly.

The direct moment after her closing the door, he pressed his forehead against the 3-D screen and started counting the numbers within "PI", a relaxing process for when in distress that his father had taught him of.

He would have to consult his mother about this.


End file.
